


Snapped

by forkflinger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Crossover, Gumshoe got Snapped, I feel like the Snap and its effects have so much potential outside the MCU so like... I took it, I put it as no archive warnings because like it's ABOUT a death kinda, M/M, MCU AU, Resurrection, The Blip, but it's not like the characters are avengers, maybe it's an AU?, uhhhh it's set in the MCU I guess, y'all I don't know how to tag a crossover, you can't prove that ace attorney DOESN'T take place in the MCI
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22567744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forkflinger/pseuds/forkflinger
Summary: Edgeworth hadn't paid much attention to all the superhero nonsense on the news, until the day when those superheroes lost and his world changed.Now, five years later, the world's still trying to cope with the loss of so many people, and he's still trying to cope with the loss of one.And then the world changed again.
Relationships: Itonokogiri Keisuke | Dick Gumshoe/Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69





	Snapped

Of course, crime hadn’t disappeared. There’d been a rash of looting and rioting as people panicked and prepared for the end of the world - but the world didn’t end. Humanity settled into a collective state of shock, too busy mourning to bother with petty crimes and too rife with grief to add more. But humans were infinitely adaptable creatures, and they returned to old habits, and a hobbled legal system was called on again.

Edgeworth wasn’t quite as busy these days, but he was still usually the last person in the building aside from the security guard. He didn’t need to work so hard, but sometimes he desperately needed something to occupy his mind, to keep him from thinking about what was lost. To focus him in the today. The shitty, shitty today.

It could have been much worse, really. He hadn’t had much to lose. Franziska survived, calling from Europe to demand answers. Kay was alive and well. Wright was still around, too, although he looked so tired now. Unsurprising, really, considering how long his list was. Edgeworth did miss Maya, and little Pearl, and even Larry, but he knew they’d all been much dearer to Wright. But he’d carried on, and even taken a little girl into his care when her father disappeared. It wasn’t uncommon for Wright to bring little Trucy around, to keep her occupied or keep an eye on her while he worked or just because he sensed Edgeworth needed distraction.

He wasn’t here tonight, though, so it was just Edgeworth and a pile of cold case files. Most of them were from Before, and odds were good that the culprits were already gone, dealt with by some higher justice than Edgeworth could mete out. Edgeworth knew as well as anyone, though, that it hadn’t been about punishment. There was a brief outcry that it was the Rapture, that the good people had been taken to Heaven or whatever bullshit religious types believed, but too many people had witnessed the pain and terror on the faces of loved ones collapsing to ash. The people who - disappeared weren’t sinners, either. If they had been, well, Edgeworth wouldn’t be here. And Gumshoe -

Exactly the kind of thoughts Edgeworth was trying to avoid. He flipped open a file and stared hard at the first page, burying himself in the final days of some stranger who met his end through conventional means. It was pointless, but it was the best he could do. He’d tried drinking, and didn’t like the fog it buried him in. He could watch reruns of Steel Samurai, but the show had disappeared as the entertainment industry collapsed without even the courtesy of a cancellation, because there was no one left to cancel it. He could go home, driving past empty houses and lying in bed suffocated by the silence he’d never adapt to. Or he could stay here, where he was at least used to being alone. Usually. Not always. He hadn’t spent every late night here alone.

Edgeworth sighed and leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t working. He couldn’t keep his mind from wandering, and it wandered to the same place it always did, to that day five years ago. Edgeworth had thought the day of his father’s murder would always be the worst day of his life, but he had been wrong. 

He’d been lucky, in a lot of ways. He hadn’t been on a plane or a bus, doomed as collateral damage. He hadn’t been here in his office, because he didn’t think he could have stayed in it. As it was, he walked halfway around the building every day to avoid the stairwell where he’d been with Gumshoe. Where he’d watched as Gumshoe froze, and stared at him, and crumbled away. The image was seared into his mind. A lot of the day had gotten fuzzy - where they’d been going, who’d found him kneeling there and guided him away - but he would never forget his last glimpse of Detective Gumshoe.

The sky outside was growing a shade lighter, and Edgeworth glanced at the clock on his computer screen. The night was nearly over, and what was left of the world outside would be waking soon. He had a few hours left before the building would fill with people. The last time he’d stepped out of his office the security guard was asleep at his post, and Edgeworth hadn’t really seen the point in waking him. There wasn’t anything worth guarding here anymore. He’d knock on the window on his way out so the man wouldn’t get in trouble, at least. For now, he thought he might try to join him. The couch was his bed more often than not anyway, and he wasn’t making any progress here. If the vision of Gumshoe’s terrified eyes was going to haunt him anyway, he might as well try to get some sleep.

There was a noise in the hallway, and Edgeworth stifled a yawn. Maybe the guard had gotten up on his own after all. The noise grew clearer; a voice. Then, a second one. Edgeworth sat up straighter as a third joined them. He couldn’t hear words, muffled as they were by the door, but there was an edge of urgency to their tone. Something was happening. Slowly, Edgeworth reached down and slid open the bottom drawer of his desk. The pocketknife he kept tucked in there wouldn’t do much to help him in a real fight, but without Gumshoe around to protect him he found comfort in it. He slid it into the palm of his hand and crept toward the door, keeping his footfalls as silent as possible. Then, slowly, he pushed the door open just a crack.

From this angle, he could see three people in the hallway. A fourth jogged up to them and joined in the conversation. Edgeworth’s breath caught in his throat as he realized he recognized them. The knife fell from his hand and landed on the carpet with a thud as he pushed the door, and four people turned toward him. People he hadn’t seen in five years.

“Edgeworth?” asked a woman in a pantsuit, peering at him in the darkened hallway. “Is that you? You look terrible.”

“Do you know what’s going on?” asked the man next to her. “None of us remember how we got here.” They were both prosecutors with offices on this floor, offices that had been empty and gathering dust. 

“It was daytime, right?” A man in a bowler hat stroked his chin frowning. “Something was happening.”

“You… you’re all…” Edgeworth stepped into the hallway. He pulled his glasses off his face to rub his eyes.

“Since when do you wear glasses?” asked the woman in the suit. 

“For three years,” Edgeworth answered, putting the glasses back on. “You’ve been gone for five.”

More people were entering the hallway now, and when the woman shrieked, “WHAT?!” it drew their attention. Edgeworth could see the security guard staring out his window, phone pressed to his ear, as coworkers and colleagues and strangers poured into the hallway, all sharing the same look of confusion.

“Five years,” Edgeworth repeated, a bit louder for his growing audience. “Five years ago, you all - half the world - died. Disappeared,” he amended.

The assembly broke out into a chaos of questions and shouts.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“How? Why?”

“This is a fucked up joke.”

“I - I need to go home. My kids - “

“I hope someone’s been feeding my fish!”

“Sir?”

Edgeworth’s heart stopped.

He almost didn’t turn. He closed his eyes and that last terrible vision was still there, burnt into his eyelids. And he couldn’t - he almost - he took a deep breath, and turned, and opened his eyes.

Detective Gumshoe had stopped halfway through reaching for Edgeworth. He hadn’t aged; he looked exactly the same as the day he’d vanished. He was still wearing that same ratty trench coat. His square jaw was still speckled with stubble and a bandaid where he’d hurt himself doing something foolish. The only difference was his face, where the look of pain was replaced by the all-too-familiar look of confusion. “What’s going on, sir?” he asked, his brows furrowed. 

Edgeworth touched Gumshoe’s sleeve, gingerly, in case he crumbled away under his fingers. When he didn’t, he reached up and cupped Gumshoe’s cheek. It was warm, and the stubble was rough where he stroked it with his thumb.

Gumshoe’s cheek was growing warmer under Edgeworth’s touch; he was blushing. “M-Mr. Edgeworth?”

Edgeworth threw his arms around Gumshoe’s neck, knocking his glasses off his face as he buried it in his shoulder. Gumshoe even smelled the same, a stale scent of cigarette smoke and gas fumes that Edgeworth had never realized was so sweet. He felt Gumshoe’s arms wrap around him, one huge hand between his shoulder blades and the other on the back of his head.

“It’s okay,” Gumshoe said, patting his back. “It’s gonna be okay, sir. We’ll figure it out.”

Edgeworth snorted. “You - you oaf,” he said, pushing off and gazing up at Gumshoe with eyes that were blurry from tears and from losing his glasses. “You don’t understand. I thought you were dead! You’ve been gone for five years!”

Gumshoe gingerly pressed the back of his hand to a Edgeworth’s forehand. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked. “You look really tired.”

“I’m not tired,” Edgeworth answered, brushing his arm away. “Well, yes, I am, but I’m not - I’m older, Dick, I’m five years older. You were - “ Someone handed him his glasses and he realized everyone had gone quiet and was watching him intently. He took a deep breath and used the corner of his jacket to clean his glasses. “There was some... alien nonsense,” he said, setting the glasses back on his face and turning to face the group. “All that superhero business on the East Coast. They fought something, and they lost. You all died. Half the world died.” Questions were thrown at him, but Edgeworth raised a hand and the crowd quieted down again. “I don’t know the details,” he said, neglecting to mention that it was because he’d been drunk a lot at the time. “And I have no idea why you’re back. Consider yourselves lucky.”

“It’s everybody.” The crowd turned towards the voice. The security guard had stepped out of his little booth, staring into his phone. “Everybody’s back. Everywhere. Nobody knows why yet.”

The small crowd was quiet. Finally, one person spoke. “What… what should we do?”

“Go home,” Edgeworth answered. “Get out of here. Find your loved ones. I - “ He was still gripping Gumshoe’s arm. He looked up, into Gumshoe’s confused eyes, and didn’t let go. “They’ve missed you.”

The small crowd looked at each other. Slowly they peeled off, in smaller groups, getting in the elevator or heading down the stairwells and talking amongst themselves. The security guard had abandoned his post, presumably to track someone down, and Edgeworth couldn’t bring himself to care about the blatant dereliction of duty. He would have done the same if Gumshoe wasn’t already standing next to him.

Soon they were alone in the hallway, and it was almost as quiet as it had been before. In the distance, though, were shouts and the honking of car horns. Edgeworth walked into his office to stand by the window and Gumshoe followed, close enough that Edgeworth didn’t have to release his grip. Outside, the street was filling with people pouring out of the office buildings and up from the subway station. 

“Has it really been five years?” Gumshoe asked, looking out. 

“As of a month ago. There was a memorial.” Edgeworth watched the people below, suddenly finding it hard to look at Gumshoe.

After a moment, Gumshoe said, “The glasses look nice.”

Edgeworth chuckled. “Thank you.”

“It doesn’t feel like it. Like five years. You were right there, and we were going to a crime scene, and then…” Gumshoe trailed off. “What happened?”

“Ash,” Edgeworth answered, taking a breath. “Everywhere across the universe, if I remember correctly, half of all life crumbled into ash. We were in that stairwell, and then you - “ He broke off, the memory somehow still sharp even though Gumshoe was standing next to him. “You crumbled,” he finished with a shuddering breath. “There was nothing I could do.”

“Wow.” Gumshoe scratched the back of his head. “That must have been tough. I’m sorry.”

Now Edgeworth _could_ look at Gumshoe, because otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to glare at him. “You’re sorry?” he said. “What the hell for? You _died_.”

“Yeah.” Gumshoe looked down like a chastised puppy. “I wasn’t supposed to go and do something like that.”

“Hmm. Consider it forgiven. Just don’t do it again.”

“Thanks, sir.”

The sounds from the street were growing louder as more people found each other. Now folks in pajamas were running from their apartment buildings towards last known locations, and diving into full body hugs. 

Edgeworth closed his eyes. “I missed you.” It sounded ridiculous, embarrassing, weak, but it was true. There’d been a time when all he could think about was all the things he’d never said, or done, or let himself feel, and now he had the chance again. All he had to do was not let his own cowardice stop him.

“It… feels weird to hear you say that, sir.”

Edgeworth clenched his jaw. “My apologies,” he said, keeping his voice level even though his stomach lurched.

“No, I don’t mean - i-it’s not bad!” Gumshoe raised both his hands defensively. “It’s not, it’s just weird because you were just with me! And you didn’t, um, seem like you’d… miss me.”

“At the time I didn’t know I would,” Edgeworth answered. “I’d never had reason to. You were always there.” It was coming back, now, the awkward confessions in support groups, the drunken 2am revelations shared with Wright over a bottle of bourbon. A truth he’d accepted, too late to do anything with. 

And now. 

Now Gumshoe was standing next to him.

Now.

“Was it really everywhere?” Gumshoe asked, looking back down at the street. “Like, all those people?”

“People,” Edgeworth answered, “animals, plants, everything alive.”

“Wow. At least you were okay.”

Edgeworth chuckled. “I survived.”

“Are you okay, sir?” There was a tone of concern in Gumshoe’s voice that made Edgeworth turn toward him again. 

“I’m fine,” Edgeworth said. He took his glasses off the clean them again, and realized his cheeks were wet. Gumshoe reached up, and wiped a tear off Edgeworth’s cheek. Then his eyes went wide and he yanked his hand back.

“S-sorry, sir!” he shouted, snapping back. “I - I didn’t mean to - !”

“It’s fine,” Edgeworth interrupted. He frowned down at the glasses in his hands, letting the world stay a little fuzzy instead of putting them back on. What could he say? Things that had been so easy to admit about a dead man were suddenly impossible. It had been so much easier to regret than to take action now. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

Gumshoe gasped. He grabbed Edgeworth by the shoulders. “What about Missile? Where is he? Is he okay?”

Edgeworth snorted. “The dog, really? That’s who you’re most concerned about?”

Gumshoe’s grip loosened. “I mean, I know you’re okay, so…”

Edgeworth shook his head. “There was no sign of him, so I assumed he was lost too. If this is really - “ He stopped himself before he could question it. “He’s probably right where you left him.”

Gumshoe’s shoulders sagged with relief. “That’s good,” he said. “I gotta go home and check on him. He’s probably scared.” Then he frowned. “Wait, is my apartment still there?”

“Should be,” Edgeworth replied. “I took over the payments.”

“Really? Why?”

“I - “ Damn good question. “Didn’t want to clean it out,” he said, which was half true. Five years ago, he’d volunteered to clear out Gumshoe’s things from the crappy little basement apartment he kept. When he’d gone through the door, though, he’d found himself frozen. He couldn’t touch a thing. And the grumpy landlord had complained that it was all going in the trash if Edgeworth didn’t take care of it because someone had to pay him the rent, and Edgeworth had just handed him his credit card. 

He’d gone back a few times, on bad days. He dusted and vacuumed and cleaned the windows and emptied the fridge. He sat on the couch and stared out the window and, once, passed out stinking drunk on Gumshoe’s bed and woke up to puke in the toilet. But he’d never gone through Gumshoe’s things, never opened the closet or rifled through the drawers or even looked under the bed.

Gumshoe rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks.”

Edgeworth looked Gumshoe up and down. “You haven’t changed a bit.” Edgeworth had acquired the start of worry lines on his forehead and around his mouth, and if his hair hadn’t already been gray he was certain he would’ve turned. He’d lost weight, too, dropping to a slighter frame than, strictly speaking, would have been healthy. But Gumshoe’s hair hadn’t grown, and his eyes were still the same sparkling warm brown they’d always been. 

A chirping melody interrupted his thoughts. He glanced at the desk, where his phone was glowing and trying to buzz itself off the edge. “That’s probably Wright,” he said, stepping towards his desk. “Excuse me.” He flicked a finger across the screen and held it to his ear.

“They’re back! Miles, they’re back!”

“I am aware,” Edgeworth replied calmly, walking back to Gumshoe’s side.

“Maya just called me! She’s alive! And Pearl! Everybody’s back! You need to go find Gumshoe!” Wright’s excitement was justified, for once. 

“He’s right next to me. I was already at the office.”

“Great! Don’t let go! Okay, I needed to make sure you were awake and finding him. I have to go, we’re gonna go try to find Trucy’s dad. Bye!”

The phone call ended as abruptly as it had begun. Edgeworth shook his head and tucked the phone into his pocket. “He seems happy.”

“You guys are friends now? That’s nice.”

“Yes, I suppose we are. He lost a lot.” Wright’s interruption had reminded Edgeworth of their conversations. What he hadn’t said. “It’s good to have you back.”

“Glad to be back, sir. I guess.”

He needed to say something. Now, before some alien nonsense took Gumshoe away again. Before Gumshoe left to look for someone else. Before he lost his nerve. He clenched his fist. No, he couldn’t. Gumshoe hadn’t spent five years thinking about him; from his perspective, twenty minutes ago it had been a perfectly normal day. Edgeworth couldn’t just spring years worth of pining on him. It wouldn’t have been fair to Gumshoe, who felt - who probably felt -

Gumshoe moved slightly. Edgeworth’s arm shot out and grabbed him by the wrist, his heart pounding, panic flooding his veins. He stared at his traitorous hand, then lifted his gaze to Gumshoe’s confused, gentle eyes.

“Don’t go,” Edgeworth whispered. “Please.”

Gumshoe turned toward Edgeworth, gently peeling his hand off. He didn’t let go of it. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice soft and low.

Edgeworth was frozen, staring at Gumshoe’s beautiful face, all sensation in his body disappearing but his hand, because Gumshoe was holding his hand. Then, gently, Gumshoe rested his other hand on Edgeworth’s shoulder, sending another jolt through him. It was more real, more real than anything for the past five years, and Gumshoe was alive and so, finally, was Edgeworth. And there was nothing more but to lean in and kiss him.


End file.
